by TJ Klune
But if Mr. Bay wasn’t involved in any capacity, Josy could run with it. He practiced in the mirror what he referred to as his gritty face, the expression he would wear when he was barking orders at the soldiers around him as they took their last stand against Mega Death Annihilator, who had machine guns for fingers and could shoot laser beams from its elbows. He would get the girl in the end, and he would get revenge against the robots who had murdered his father, the king of the northern hemisphere.
So no. Josiah Erickson wasn’t a coward. He knew rejection. One could not be an actor of his caliber and not.
But funnily enough, when faced with a blushing author in glasses handing him a book where it appeared a triceratops would get a gun-toting man pregnant even though it defied human anatomy, Josy couldn’t find the words to say just how much this moment meant to him.
So he said, “Um. Thank you. I can’t wait to read this, even though I don’t read a lot.”
And Q-Bert said, “Wow, that’s great, I hope you enjoy it.”
And then Josy said, “Sure. Nice. Neat. Great. Wonderful.”
And that was it.
They stared at each other for another moment, and then the woman who was either a mermaid or a salmon pushed by them to talk to Q-Bert.
For a brief moment, he thought about telling her to swim back upstream and wait her goddamn turn, but Josy wasn’t mean.
Xander, on the other hand, could be mean and looked as if he was going to try to wrestle the shiny woman. Since Josy figured that wasn’t allowed in a library, he took Xander by the hand and dragged him toward the exit.
“That was it?” Xander demanded. “I thought you were going to be his friend!”
“I tried,” Josy snapped as he reached the doors. The children on the trampoline looked as if they were laughing at him. God, how he hated their joy of reading and jumping. “I couldn’t make the words come out. Being an adult in a library and trying to make friends should not be this hard.”
“That’s… an uncomfortable sentence.”
“How do you think I feel?”
“Why are we leaving? What have I told you? Don’t ever let someone in a costume try and push you around, especially when they are supposed to be some kind of sea animal.”
“I know,” Josy muttered. “And it’s so oddly specific I never thought it’d come true. But here we are.”
“A drag queen dressed as Ursula tried to get me to go home with her,” Xander said. “She was really rude about it, and so that’s why the rule exists.”
“Uh, you did go home with her.”
Xander shrugged as they pushed their way through the doors. “I have oddly hypocritical tastes.”
The air outside was warm as they started down the steps. The end of the line was just inside the doors, but people gathered in front of the library, talking and laughing. Josy was still high, though it seemed to be the least of his problems. He remembered the young, naïve person he’d been, standing on these steps only an hour before, not knowing how his life was going to change. He envied that man.
They hadn’t even gotten any cookies.
This was pretty much the worst night ever.
And also pretty great, because they’d had fun. Tigress had been really cool, and he’d learned that Sasquatch could be erotic.
It was quite the conundrum.
“We could just wait here until he leaves,” Xander told him.
“That’s kind of creepy.”
Xander rolled his eyes. “What if you had just gotten done with an event and people were waiting to talk to you?”
“I would be touched and give myself to my adoring fans.”
“Then why can’t you do the same thing now for Q-Bert?”
“Because I don’t want to be an adoring fan. I want to be his friend. There’s a difference. With the fans, you smile and nod and take selfies and then hope they don’t follow you back to your house and murder you by shoving their underwear down your throat. With friends, you go get McFlurries and go to the park and eat them on the swings.”
Xander stared at him. Then, “Do you want to get McFlurries and then go to a park and eat them on the swings?”
“It’s dark. The only people who go the park in LA this late are the people cruising public bathrooms or the ones that want to get murdered after accidentally stumbling upon a drug deal.”
“That’s very seventies. I like it.”
Josy shrugged. “Retro, right? Can we just go to your house? I want to smoke a bowl and lie down and talk about my feelings. I’m staying the night, by the way. I don’t have to work until two tomorrow, and I am feeling pretty down. I might need you to make me popcorn.”
Xander wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “With M&M’s in it?”
“It’s the only way to eat popcorn.”
“I think I can manage that. Let’s get an Uber and we can—”
“Josiah!”
They turned in time to see Q-Bert rushing down the steps. He had a strange look on his face, and his hands were balled into fists. Josy wondered if he was about to get punched. He hoped not. He couldn’t go to auditions when he had a black eye.
But Q-Bert, in fact, did not punch him. If anything, he looked like he was about to throw up as he stopped in front of them. He glanced at Xander, then back at Josy. “Hi. I want to ask you something.”
“Oh boy,” Xander said, taking a step back. He didn’t go too far, which Josy was thankful for. He couldn’t be sure what was happening, but he didn’t want Xander to leave in case it was bad. The other people outside the library were staring at them, some of them taking pictures with their phones. Josy wondered if they were fans of his or Q-Bert’s. Probably Q-Bert’s. He didn’t often run into people who were fans of his commercials.
“Okay,” Josy said slowly. “You can ask me something. But if it’s how tall Mount Everest is, I have absolutely no idea.”
“What? No, that’s not what I want—I thought you were good at trivia?”
“I am. But that’s not trivia. That’s mountains.”
“Oh my god,” Q-Bert mumbled. “You’re so… you.”
Josy shrugged. “I do okay.”
“Dee said she’d murder me if I didn’t come after you.”
Josy didn’t know what to do with that. Well, he believed it, but beyond that, he had nothing. “Oh. She’s… scary. I mean, lesbians are awesome, and lesbians with neck tattoos are even better, but I would never want to make her mad.”
Q-Bert looked frustrated. “She’s not… she wouldn’t get mad. Not unless I asked her to.”
“Please don’t ask her to.”
“I won’t,” Q-Bert promised, and Josy believed him.
But it also raised questions. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Have you ever asked her to?” He liked Q-Bert’s eyes. They were brown like the chocolate chips in the cookies he would never get to eat. Unless Q-Bert had brought him some, but that didn’t seem to be the case.
“Once.”
Josy felt a chill run down his spine. “She murdered someone for you? That’s awesome.”
“What? No! She didn’t—it wasn’t murder. Some guy was getting a little too close and wouldn’t take no for an answer, and she grabbed him by the back of the neck and threw him into a wall.”
“Dude,” Josy breathed.
“Right? It was—okay, that’s not why I’m out here.”
Maybe there would be cookies. “What’s up, man?”
“I don’t—I don’t do this often.” He cleared his throat. “Scratch that. I don’t do this ever.”
“Do what? Chase after people in front of a library? I mean, that’s cool if that’s your thing. I can respect that. I have a pair of socks with Ewoks on them, so no judgment here.”
“No,” Q-Bert said forcefully. “That’s not—this shouldn’t be so hard.” His face screwed up as he looked down at his feet.
Josy wanted to hug him, but his shoulders were tense, and he didn’t think it’d be appreciated. “It
doesn’t have to be.”
Q-Bert nodded, head jerking up and down. “Right. Like, okay. Just. I think… I think you’re weird.”
“Thank you,” Josy said promptly.
“And I like weird.”
“Well, that’s good for me, I guess. This is going well.”
“And I like your shirt.”
“My friend got it on eBay. You can blow me, but it doesn’t change colors.”
He heard Xander groan behind him as Q-Bert appeared to choke on his tongue.
“Holy crap, that’s not what I meant,” he said quickly, doing his best to keep the train out of Friendship Station from falling into a canyon that was filled with lava. “You don’t need to blow me. Or even on me. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m stoned, and when I get stoned, I say stupid things. Well. I say stupid things when I’m not stoned, but it’s worse when I’m high.”
“Right,” Q-Bert squeaked. “Of course. No blowing. That’s—wait. High?” He took a step back. “Are you on heroin?”
Josy blinked. “What? No. Of course not.”
Q-Bert took another step back. “Bath salts? Are you going to turn into a zombie and eat my face?”
“I’m not going to eat your face,” Josy promised. “I mean, even if I was on bath salts, I wouldn’t do that. I think. I’m not really sure how that works. I mean, is it… soap? Are people eating soap and turning into zombies?”
Q-Bert looked as if he was about to run.
Josy needed to salvage this situation. “It’s just pot.”
Q-Bert’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. That actually makes a lot of sense.”
“It does?”
He waved at hand in Josy’s direction. “Just… all of this.”
Josy looked down at himself. He didn’t see anything different than what he’d seen in the mirror back at his apartment. “Sure?”
“It’s not bad,” Q-Bert said quickly. “In fact, I like it. I don’t even know you, but I like a lot of things about you.”
“Wow,” Josy said, awed. “That was a nice thing to say. Thank you.”
Q-Bert looked as if he were steeling himself for something. He squared his shoulders and clenched his jaw. “Would you want to go on a date with me? Maybe? Possibly?”
And that’s when Josy did the absolute worst thing in the world.
In fact, the absolute worst two things in the world.
He was surprised into laughter.
And he said, “No.”
He didn’t mean for it to sound like it did. In fact, anyone who knew him well enough would say it was almost impossible for Josy to be mean about anything. It’d led to him getting walked over every now and then, and he’d had to learn to take a firmer stance, but Josiah Erickson didn’t know how to be an asshole. Serge said once that he was literal sunshine and that whatever made human beings act like dicks was missing from Josy. They agreed it must have all been given to Xander, who scowled at the both of them.
He laughed, yes, but only because he wasn’t expecting Q-Bert to say what he said.
And he said no because he didn’t want to go on a date. Dates usually meant expectations. And expectations led to situations that Josy wasn’t comfortable with. It was easier to just avoid it entirely.
But the blood was draining from Q-Bert’s face like he’d just been shot down and, worse, laughed at in the process.
Which is exactly what had happened.
Josy never wanted to see that look on his face again, especially when he was the one who put it there. “No,” he said, reaching for Q-Bert, who took another step back. “That’s not—that’s not what I meant. I swear. I wasn’t expecting it, and it caught me off guard. You’re awesome, man. Like, you have no idea. Your entire existence is gnarly. I just don’t date.” He smiled because he wanted Q-Bert to see how great things could be if they were friends. “It’s not something I like to do, especially with someone like you who I think could be—”
Well, that certainly didn’t come out right, if the expression on Q-Bert’s face was any indication.
Q-Bert’s eyes were wide, and he was gnawing on his bottom lip again. “Sorry. I didn’t—that’s not—I shouldn’t have—” He looked around, and Josy realized they had an audience and people were staring at them. “I should probably go. I couldn’t—” He made a strangled noise before spinning on his heels and rushing back up the steps into the library.
“What the hell just happened?” Josy demanded of no one in particular.
“Shit,” Xander muttered, coming up to stand beside Josy. “You okay?”
“What did I do wrong?”
Xander sighed. “Nothing, man. It just… escalated. I think. Quicker than even I could follow. You were saying one thing, and he was thinking another. It was just a miscommunication.”
“Miscommunications are so pointless. Should I go talk to him? I think I should go back and try and talk to him. I didn’t mean to laugh. Honest. I was just trying to be his friend!”
“I know you were. But the guy dressed like a unicorn is glaring at us, and I think we should just cut our losses and get out of here before it turns into a mob and I die at the hands of someone with sparkly eye shadow and a horn tied to their head.”
“But—”
“We know who he is now,” Xander said quietly. “If anything, we can stalk him online and find out where he’s going to be next.” His phone beeped. He pulled it from his pocket and looked down at the screen. “Uh, scratch that. We should probably forget he exists. I just got a text from Dee, who said she’s going to kick your ass.”
“Oh my god,” Josy whispered. “Angry lesbian. We have to run.”
And so they did.
They made it four blocks before they remembered they needed an Uber.
Ten minutes later they were in the back seat of a minivan belonging to Milton, who talked about himself in the third person. Normally such a dude would pique Josy’s interest immensely, but since he decided to feel sorry for himself, he stared out the window instead, brow furrowed as he watched streetlights flash by.
It wasn’t until they were almost back to Xander’s apartment that he remembered the book in his hand.
He looked down at the picture of a half-naked man with a rifle slung over his shoulder, his belly distended from the dinosaur baby that grew inside him. A triceratops nuzzled his horn against the man’s stomach. Josy wondered if he’d ever find a dinosaur or a person to love him that much.
He opened the book to see black ink in shaky scrawl across the title page.
It read:
Josiah—
Thank you for being a bright light in all the darkness.
Q
Chapter 5
JOSIAH ERICKSON had a problem.
Well, that went without saying.
But this was a big problem.
He had taken Xander’s suggestion to heart.
He was being creepy.
It wasn’t until he was fifty-six weeks into Q-Bert’s Instagram that he realized just how creepy he was actually being. He most certainly didn’t intend to let it get that far, of course. He’d told himself in the days that followed his piss-poor attempt at making friends he would just put the entire thing behind him and move on with his life. He’d made a mistake, but the chances of him actually running into Q-Bert again without actively looking for him were minimal. Los Angeles was a big place filled with millions of people. He would probably never see Q-Bert again.
Unless he decided to stalk him.
Which he did.
And was.
In the bathroom at Applebee’s while on his lunch break.
He wasn’t trying to be malicious. Having never stalked anyone before, Josy wasn’t quite sure how to go about it. But it was twenty minutes into his thirty-minute break, and he was sitting on the toilet, scrolling through Q-Bert’s Instagram, and he was a failure at being a real person.
“I should stop,” he’d muttered to himself when he first started.
“I should really sto
p,” he muttered to himself twenty minutes later.
Which is where he was now, fifty-six—no, fifty-eight weeks into Q-Bert’s Instagram, and even though he knew he should put his phone away and attempt to poop before he had to go back into the dining room, he was now on week fifty-nine, and it was just freaking endearing.
Oh sure, Q-Bert was terrible at Instagram. For one, he apparently didn’t see the need to use filters. All his photographs were… normal. They weren’t stylized. And don’t even get Josy started on the lack of hashtags. How was someone supposed to know what Q-Bert was thinking about each photo without hashtags? Yes, maybe Josiah was a little annoyed that Q-Bert had approximately seventy thousand more followers than he did, and that there was the tiny little blue check mark next to his name that showed he was pretty much better than anyone who didn’t have it, but Josy was not a vindictive person. He didn’t know how to be.
What he was on this Monday afternoon in the bathroom at Applebee’s was utterly charmed. Q-Bert apparently didn’t understand the art of the selfie, so he was barely in any of the posts. But what he did post were pictures of dogs he saw while out for a walk, close-ups of lolling tongues and pointy ears and captions that said things like This is a good boy and Made a new friend, his name is Baxter and his owner says he likes broccoli. There were pictures of flowers growing from cracks in the sidewalk, women in professional attire doing double Dutch with a long jump rope, coffee art shaped like a leaf, a burrito bigger than Josiah had ever seen, leaves changing colors, the temperature on the dashboard of a car with a caption lamenting on how it could be April and almost a hundred degrees.
There was one photograph that captured Josy’s attention more than the others, from just over a year back. Q-Bert was standing in front of a full-length mirror. There were bookshelves in the reflection behind him, stuffed full with books and what looked like sleeves for hundreds of records and a plant that looked like it had died at least a month prior.
Q-Bert was wearing loose pajama pants and a thin tank top, and he looked exhausted. His skin was sallow, and there were dark circles under his eyes. His fingernails were bitten to the quick on the hand that held the phone toward the mirror. His hair was disheveled and greasy, as if it hadn’t been washed in days.
